


Sleep, Now

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: When Gibbs' stubbornness on a case starts to drive everyone crazy, Bishop pulls out the big guns (a.k.a Jack).





	Sleep, Now

**Author's Note:**

> Besides tropes, I enjoy doing these short fics of about 2k-6k words. Little slices of life, as they were. Hope you enjoy them, too.  
> Slightly inspired by a fic I suspect is coming down the pipeline from jenni3penny. :)

"You have _got_ to do something."

Jack took off her glasses to welcome the visitor in the doorway. Seeing the gesture as an invitation, Bishop strode into the room and planted herself in front of the desk. Jack temporarily diffused the situation by holding out her sucker jar. She was always somewhat amazed at how it made even the darkest moods brighten, even if only for a moment. She filed away Bishop's colour choice but didn’t comment out loud. Instead, she looked up at the young agent and prodded her with a head tilt.

"He is insufferable and stubborn and, and, and arghh!" 

Her hands were raised as if pulling her hair out. She was kind of cute as she tried to work her rage around the sucker in her mouth, but Jack kept that to herself, too. Parsing the rambling anger, the adjectives made it easy to figure out the subject of her ire. 

"What's Gibbs done now?"

The name set Ellie off again. She took the stick out of her mouth and used it to punctuate her points. "He is running us into the ground on this case. I know it's a kid and I'm not made of stone, but I make a mistake and he yells at me which makes me make another mistake, and I can't. I just can't."

Whatever amusement Jack was getting out of the situation quickly evaporated in the face of Ellie's obvious distress. She had only ever wanted to please the man who had become a father to her, and it broke Jack's heart to see her so dejected by his treatment. She pulled a pad of paper from her desk, scribbled something and tore the sheet away. She did this twice more, then handed the papers to Bishop. 

"Go home, Ellie. Tell Nick and Tim to do the same."

Ellie popped the sucker back into her mouth and frowned. "Is this some kind of doctor's note?"

"Yes, in fact, that's exactly what it is. If the Director has a problem with it, he can come to me."

"Pretty sure he won't be the one with the problem. The Director told Gibbs to go home. He's stalking Kasie in the basement until he thinks the coast is clear. We're too scared to leave."

Her voice went deadly calm. "Then you can tell _Gibbs_ he can come to me if he has a problem."

"Okay." Bishop dragged out the second syllable.

Hearing the disbelief, Jack sternly said, "I mean it. If I find out you disobeyed doctor's orders-"

Ellie held up her hands. "Say no more." She may have wanted Gibbs' approval, but she wanted none of Sloane's wrath. She was only sorry she wouldn’t be there when his anger superseded his sense. 

Which only took 17 minutes to come to fruition.

…..

“Where’s my team?”

“Hello to you, too.”

He all but stomped into the room. “My team?”

“If they did what I ordered them to do, they’ve gone home for the day.” Her eyes remained on the journal on her desk. If he wanted her undivided attention, he’d have to start by shelving the attitude.

Of course, he went the other way entirely.

“You don’t have the authority, Agent Sloane.”

Slowly, deliberately and deadly, she raised her head, and she could’ve sworn she saw the realization in his eyes that he’d crossed a line, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“Oh, I think I do, _Agent Gibbs_. Just like I have the authority to recommend a leave of absence for any agent whose frame of mind appears to be affecting his job. And considering the Director is a good friend of mine, I have no problem believing your ass would be _persona non grata_ for as long as I deemed it necessary.”

“You’d tag-team with Leon against me?”

His question created a minute softness in her voice. “Not against you, Gibbs. For you. You’re not doing your team, yourself, or Kyle Essex any good right now.” The boy’s name hit the target and she saw the pain sharpen his eyes and melt her heart. Still, she knew she had to remain strong. “Go home, Gibbs. Get some sleep. Come back at it tomorrow.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that he’d come up with something that he’d consider a compromise. Rather than turning to the door, he went to her couch and flopped down. Though the evidence was right in front of her, she had to ask.

“What are you doing?”

“Gettin' some sleep, like you said." He adjusted the cushions under his head as if he hadn't ignored the other parts of her order. "Wake me up in an hour.”

That he had somehow gotten the upper hand in the situation irked her, and the irritation was all through her voice. “The rest of the day, or I swear to God-” 

He hummed his reply and she wasn’t sure if it was a concession or a brush-off. At least he seemed to be following up on his goal to get some sleep, because when she looked over, he was still and quiet, eyes closed and hands folded on his chest.

Five minutes into the silence, he startled her by asking, “What’re you readin’?”

The chair squeaked at her slight jump. She put her hand on her chest to will her heart to slow down. “A good friend’s been publishing a travelogue of her experiences in Eastern Europe,” she said. “Thought I’d take a break and read something positive for a while.” 

He may have gotten her not-so-subtle hint about how everyone needed a break, even her. He may not. What he did do was say, “Read it to me.”

The request made her chuckle. “You want me to read you a bedtime story, Gunny?” His silence took the play out of her comment, and she immediately regretted it. She knew he had been working hard on the case, knew it was his nature to be the first agent in and the last agent out, knew that even the hardest men needed to be rewarded with some softness. Standing, she went over to the chair nearest the couch and pulled it even closer, sitting alongside his head.

“Never been there without a uniform,” he remarked. 

His hand reached out for hers, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling back, a move she blocked by holding firm. It kept his arm at an odd angle, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I went to Poland when I was in my 20s,” she said, the warmth of the memory winding through her voice. 

He turned his head at this new information. “Talk to me.”

“What?”

“Put the magazine down. I wanna hear your story.”

She made a face, downplaying the adventures of a youth that seemed so long ago. “They won’t be as good as this,” she said, lifting the magazine.

“Nah,” he agreed, “they’ll be better.”

She privately chastised the 20-something girl who made a reappearance through the blush that stained her cheeks at Gibbs’ compliment. In many ways, she could see why Bishop sought out his approval, though Jack’s reward was something decidedly more intimate.

“Oh, my God,” she said more to herself than to him. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” The only indication he heard her was another squeeze of her hand. “Fine. It was a dark and stormy night…”

For the first time since he arrived, he laughed.

…..

He felt fingers brushing through his hair and he almost reached up to grab the wrist when his short term memory kicked in, identifying the wrist’s owner. He wasn’t inclined to enjoy the simple tactile things in life, but he was finding he was learning to enjoy a lot of things around her. Because of her. She must not have realized he was awake, because her path and rhythm were broken and uneven, brushing through his hair, around his ear and across his temple, sometimes slow, sometimes pausing, but never entirely stopping. Slowly opening his eyes, he risked having her stop so he could look at her. He needn’t have worried- she didn’t realize he was awake because she was barely awake. The sun had settled low in the room and brought ambers and coppers that oddly reminded him of her. She sat in her chair, magazine on her lap, eyes closed with her hand flat over the coffee cup that was perched on the chair’s arm. He didn’t dare tell her she was beautiful and adorable all in one.

“Lieutenant Sloane,” he said in its place.

Startled for the second time that day, her hand gripped around the cup to prevent it from falling. “Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs,” she murmured, taking her time opening her eyes. 

He wondered how he could make her say that more often, because didn’t _that_ send a surge of hot right to his gut?

While part of his mind pondered that thought, the other asked, “What time is it?”

She cracked open her eyes and glanced at her watch. “Just past 19 hundred hours, Marine.”

“Seven? I got here at three.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept for four hours straight. “You here the whole time?”

Taking in a big deep breath of wake, she admitted, “Well, I did get up once to go to the head, despite your iron grip and gorilla-like growl.” He grunted and she continued. “But when I came back, you were… distressed.” He vaguely remembered the body of 3 year old Kyle Essex in the trunk of a car with his dead mother. Jack must have suspected as much, because she absently began running her fingers through his hair again. “I tried some relaxation techniques-” His gaze followed hers to his feet.

“You took off my shoes.”

“Nice socks, by the way.”

“Gift from Bishop,” he said about the black cotton socks adorned with green plastic soldiers. “Haven’t had time to do laundry.”

Her gift was a broad smile. “Must be desperate times, considering they're Army men." He smirked his reply. "Would’ve loosened the buttons on your shirt, but you wear 4 layers, so that was pointless. And I figured undoing your pants would just open up a whole can of questions.” Her animated expression drew out a chuckle. “But this seemed to work,” she said, acknowledging her soothing fingers. “Hope that’s okay.”

“More than.”

“Good.”

He enjoyed it right up to the line where another can of questions would be opened. Things between them were growing organically and exponentially even as they couldn't identify what those 'things' were, and since both of them seemed okay with the idea, he let it alone. They both knew the day would come to deal with 'things', but today needn't be that day. Reaching for her wrist- this time with a gentle, not defensive intent- he linked her fingers with his and sat up. Running his free hand over his face and through his hair, he drew in a deep breath and sighed.

"So what now, Cowboy?"

He looked down at their hands and gave a squeeze. There were a few ways to answer the question, but he went for the now. "Gonna call my team and tell them to come in late tomorrow." She showed her appreciation with a smile. "Then I'm buyin' you a coffee." The smile grew. "Then,' he looked down at his feet, "I guess I'm doin' laundry."

"Ooh, started off so well," she teased. 

He ran out of reasons to continue holding her hand, so turned his attention to putting on his shoes. Finished all too quickly, he slapped his knees and stood and she followed suit. There they stood, hovering between moments, and it felt like it could be more. Taking a chance, he asked, "You comin'?"

The question seemed to surprise her. "Oh."

"I'm not bringin' the coffee to ya," he said, feigning aloofness, but secretly pleased at her reaction.

She covered her slight flush with a determined, "I'm not doing your laundry." 

She shoulder bumped him when he pretended to have second thoughts.

"Tell ya what, Sloane- read me a bedtime story and we'll call it even."

Jack's mouth dropped at his cheeky audacity, but he was already out the door.

…..

-end.


End file.
